It's Just Late
by Riinii.Riin
Summary: It was just late. That was what she kept telling everyone. The mark would show up eventually, and she'd find her soul mate. It was just late. She had enough time. It was just late. /Soul mate one-shot, ML doesn't belong to me/ Marinette is just waiting for the words to show up. The words of what her true love would say when they would first meet. But past 16, there's still nothing.
**Since everyone seems to be hooked on this idea, I thought I'd jump into the boat too! :3 I saw this same thing a year ago on a Soul Eater fanfiction, and then a few days ago as Miraculous... and then when more stories started popping up here and there, I thought it couldn't hurt to have something similar! Credit for the original idea about markings/soul mate sort of discover thing goes to the original person, whether that be the Soul Eater fanfiction from waaaaay back then, or the recent Miraculous publisher-sorry, forgot your usernames!-or even someone before that! I guess I'd only take credit for how the story played out, and how some things were twisted to fit the story.**

 **Miraculous Ladybug does _not_ belong to me! Hope you all enjoy the story, and review if you want to! :D**

 **MLMLMiraculousLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLadybugMLMLMLMLML**

Her parents always pushed her to search. Always talked about how important it was to find the one, that the second the words appeared she would scour the world for her soul mate. That it would be her top priority, to not wait until fate made their paths collide. On her fifteen birthday, Marinette had been given a big party. And the second it was over, both her mother and father had taken the girl aside and searched her skin for the words. The mark of what her soul mate would say, appearing like magic.

But they found no mark. Her mother said it would probably take some time for it to appear—it had only been a few hours since the day had begun, it would show up. The next morning, her parents had done another rigorous search. Not any word to throw away their worry. Nothing but clear skin.

 _"It'll show up,"_ Marinette had promised, stepping away from her parents and pulling down her sleeves. They looked like they were caught on the train tracks with an approaching train a few feet away at 70 miles per hour. It made her tremble at the look. _"It's just late. You'll see—I have a soul mate somewhere out there, and I bet HIS words are late, too. Guess that means we'll be late for everything. On our wedding, we'll completely miss the first three hours because we were having too much fun. And on our first date, we'll both end up late but arrive at the same time! You'll see, Mama, Papa... it's just late."_

It was very late. Very, very late.

Alya, her best friend, had already shown off her words with a bright smile. She was quite proud of her mark, flaunting it off and awaiting the person it belonged to. _"It's so sweet!"_ she had chided, throwing her arms around Marinette and putting the back of her left hand into view. _"I can't wait until he says it! 'You're beautiful, babe', just like that! First time meeting!"_ All Marinette could think about was that her own mark hadn't appeared yet. And it was well past her fifteenth birthday when it _should_ have shown up.

Eventually that same year, Marinette and Alya had gone to the movies. During the whole thing, Alya had been busy on her phone and madly texting a boy she had a crush on. Somehow she ended up leaving her phone on the seat as the two best friends left, and in a rush to go grab it, Alya knocked into a boy neither had ever seen before. _"Oh, sorry, sorry!"_ Alya had apologized. The boy had only stared at her, as if already love-struck. And then he lifted up his left hand in a sharp movement, a flinch of realization crossing his face, revealing black writing in the same spot Alya had hers. His eyes had lifted back and forth between Alya and the writing, and then he swallowed uncomfortable and scratched the back of his hand, seemingly unsure what to say. But then he did speak, still in a daze.

 _"You're beautiful, babe."_

And each had hugged.

Later that night, when Alya and her soul mate Nino had arrived at the bakery to drop off Marinette, her parents had been waiting. Her mother was staring at the boy with a mixture of surprise and confusion. _"Who's that? That looked nothing like the boy Alya had been talking about before."_

Marinette had pushed herself into the bakery, not meeting their gazes. _"Oh, that's Alya's soul mate. They met at the movie theater. His name is Nino."_ And that had sparked another flurry of checking. Of course, her mother had found not a shred of black writing on her daughter's skin. And when both women returned to the living room with sad expressions, her father had taken it a step further and pried open Marinette's mouth to see if maybe the writing had appeared on her tongue or gums. Nothing. With a cold feeling in her heart, Marinette had gone to bed, and could just hear her mother's crying in her bedroom and her father's stiff sniffling to prevent himself from breaking down.

The year went by in a blur. A painful experience for the family. Marinette hid the fact she had no mark. Her parents did as well. It wasn't there, and no amount of wishing was making it appear. And she, like her parents, had already begun to realize it would probably never show up. Sometimes, they never did. She wouldn't even have a chance to save her life.

When her sweet sixteenth birthday came and passed, that was when Marinette really began to give up. And also when signs began to show. It always seemed like she had a tickle in her throat, but when she'd cough it would be dry and hurt more than normal. Her eyes were duller, the once beautiful ocean blue now a sickening gray color, leaving the world around seen in darker shades. Sometimes her ears would ring so loud, Marinette would have to clutch her head and try to imagine herself somewhere else, just to cope. She could no longer enjoy the smell of fresh cooked goods in the bakery below, now finding the scent bland and tasteless all the same. And when she'd stub her toe that one night while fishing for a pencil, it hadn't hurt like it should have.

She was losing herself.

The mark of a soul mate wasn't just a reminder to 'find the one', it was a warning. By twenty, if a soul mate hadn't already been found yet and the words said, both parties would die. Lose all their senses until there was nothing left, and then just blink out of existence. No pain, no sound, a soft death that was only agonizing for the family members watching... and a death Marinette didn't want, but knew was going to happen. Some people didn't get their marks. Never had a chance to find the one, and save themselves from the painless death. She wasn't going to get that chance. Her parents had pushed for her to find a mark that wasn't there because they feared the future in which their daughter was not alive. Marinette didn't want to let them down, but what could she do? Conjure up a mark out of no where?

Her parents never gave up hope, and Marinette was in awe of their silent struggle and bravery. Alya and Nino had tried to support her as best they could once they learned the truth, but they didn't understand not having a mark. They didn't understand not being able to have a soul mate, or even know what that very soul mate would have said. They didn't understand any of this. She was alone.

 _"It's just late."_ The words were said too often and too easily. An excuse. A false promise.

Because it wasn't just late. It wasn't even coming.

 _If you believe your mark will never show,_ Marinette had asked herself one night as she laid awake in bed like so many other times, dreading the nightmares and fantasy dreams. Dreams in which she found her loved one. Dreams where the world was in beautiful colors like before, at least she was convinced so, and dreams where her parents were smiling again. Dreams where Alya and Nino would be laughing, where her soul mate would hug her and whisper his marking, over and over again in her ear—though she could never hear what he was saying. Dreams where she was in her own wedding. Dreams where she lived past twenty, and conquered her goal of being a fashion designer. Dreams that were so breathtakingly realistic. _Then will it really not show? What if I do believe it will appear, and then it does? What if it's meant to appear late, but it won't if I don't believe it?_

But she could never convince herself to believe it would appear. It just wasn't possible. With tears falling onto her pillow, Marinette rolled over and covered her gray eyes. _"It's just late,"_ she told herself aloud, as if that would be enough to convince her to think that way. It wasn't. It just made her sobs louder. _"It's just late."_

Eighteen arrived. It was very, very late. The mark had corrupted the family. Everyone was distressed. Whenever someone would catch sight of Marinette's form, they would break down or shoot her pitied looks. Because most of them believed the same thing she did. That the mark was never going to show up.

But Marinette didn't have the heart to try and tell her parents this.

 _"No one has ever tried to tattoo a mark on someone!"_ Alya had told her one day, taking Marinette aside to tell her this.

But Mari had shaken her head. Her ears were ringing again to the point of almost drowning out Alya's words. _"I can't do that to my parents, Alya."_ she whispered, her throat tickling for a moment before she coughed and covered her mouth. It hurt to cough. It was starting to hurt to even breath.

 _"But, Marinette."_ Alya had spoken again, resting a hand gently on her best friend's back. _"What do you got to lose?"_

And it was true. What did she have to lose? But getting a tattoo was far from what she wanted. To flaunt fake writing at her parents? To pretend it was real, or otherwise pretend it would _become_ the real mark? That was horrible. That was utterly horrible to even consider.

So, the idea was thrown out. Nino had been behind it for awhile, but Marinette had stomped her foot down and was not budging. In her other defense, she argued on what to even put. _"You could just tattoo something as great as the one Alya has."_ Nino had suggested, with a knowing smirk at his 'beautiful babe'.

Alya had waved Nino away, though at least gave him a wink. _"Marinette would faint if someone told her that, though. So I doubt her soul mate would get a response!"_

The idea was scrapped. Sometimes mentioned again, but otherwise gone.

And the mark still did not show up.

At nineteen, things were failing. Marinette was already seeing things without color, and she had almost lost her voice. She could feel nothing, like her nerves had become paralyzed. She could hear very little, she couldn't taste a thing, and her sense of smell was all but shot. Her walking was crooked, everything too weak to even keep herself upright. By then, she was hospitalized. But deeming there was nothing to be done, she was returned home and put on bed rest. That was all they could do, but watch the calender. As each day ticked by to her twentieth birthday. Her parents were not setting up a birthday party. They were setting up a funeral.

Three months before her birthday, Alya and Nino had stopped by. Nino had given Marinette a hug that would have been seen as awkward in their younger years, but in this situation it almost felt like Marinette could feel her heart race and hear the beating of it. Alya had given her a much tighter hug and a fat kiss on the forehead. _"You're so strong, girl."_ she had whispered, and then hid her face in the blanket as sobs overtook her healthy body. A body that was already past it's year of twenty. One that would live past that year, even. _"You're stronger than me, no matter what. I—I... I can't lose you, Marinette! I can't!"_ That night had been full of crying from Alya, and even some silent sniffles from Nino. Marinette, however, did not have such strength. Stray tears had fallen, three in total, from her white eyes. But that was all. And her voice could barely carry up to a volume they could hear.

 _"I'm sorry... Alya."_ she whispered. _"It's... late."_ She meant the time of day. It was already after dark, and she knew Alya and Nino were not staying the night. But they took it as something else. For the next hour, the couple had knelt by her bed and clutched her hands tightly, promising to never forget her. Crying. Wailing. Pleading. And sobbing. Marinette knew they would someday not even remember her. That one day, when they grew even older and had kids of their own, they would look at something and not even think about her. _"Oh, time to pay the bills!"_ she could already imagine Alya's fake cheery voice. And Nino's rising from the couch, where a toddler was sitting on his lap and watching a child's show.

 _"I left them just for you, babe!"_

 _"Eeeewww!"_ the child would say.

Nino would raise an eyebrow at his son or daughter. _"What? The word babe?"_

The child would stick their tongue out. _"Bills AND babe!"_ And the family would laugh.

Laugh like Marinette had never existed. The girl with no mark. Because that was how people moved on. And they would move on. Despite how crushed they were now. Despite how many tears stained the sheets. Despite how much love they held for her. Someday, everyone would look at something and not even remember there was someone called Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Someday.

Later, Alya and Nino went home. Her parents kissed her goodnight. Marinette laid awake in bed, staring up at the black ceiling and wondering how things would be if they had been different. When she fell asleep, she had no dreams and no nightmares. But she did think one thing. _It's just_ late. And for a moment, she believed it. Truly believed it, with all her heart—the heart she couldn't feel, or hear, or even tell still existed. When she awoke, her father brought up the newspaper for her to enjoy and breakfast. Marinette was sitting up with a mass of pillows to support her back as she flipped through the newspaper, finding it hard to see the words right to read them correctly. But she did find one article that made her grimace.

Adrien Agreste was dying. The model she had been crushing on. He was dying, too, on bed rest with nothing to be done. No one said why. But Marinette—she knew. She knew because she had been stalking him, as creepy as that was. She knew because he never claimed who his mark was. And he had no soul mate. No matter what the mayor's daughter Cloe stated, Adrien had no one to love. And it was because of this knowledge that Marinette had the courage to do what she did next. She slipped out of bed. Struggled to fit into comfortable clothes, wrapped a blanket over her shoulders to fight against the cold, and sneaked out of the house when her parents were gone. Then, she made the long walk to the mansion across town. By the time she arrived there, she was shivering. When she rang the doorbell, a woman's dull voice answered. And she replied.

 _"I'd like to... speak to Adrien Agreste. It is... important, miss, that I s-see him. Because if w-we are to die with no marks, then I'd a... at least want to know I didn't die the only person wi... without one in the world. So please, mi... miss. I just want to see him. And then I can... leave, and never return. But I want to see him b... before I fall. B-because, even though I... I don't feel the c-cold, I'm trembling. I'm tre-trembling, and I'm w... weak, and I don't think I'll make it h-home after walking all the way here. So if this is my last da... day b-breathing, even though I don't even know I am breathing in the first p... place, then can I not at least share a... a moment with s-someone I've looked up t-to...?"_

It had all slipped out in a raspy voice, and Marinette had strained to raise it high enough to be heard, and was surprised everything sounded so clear. She assumed it was her last words ever to be said in such a clear way, at a volume to be proud of in her condition. The camera above her head shifted. And she wondered if her weakness could be shown on her face. Then, the door opened. Though Marinette could not get her legs to move until a woman approached with a sad and skeptical expression, and the poor trembling girl had fallen into her arms. _"Please,"_ she had pleaded. _"I can't... I can't... w... walk... walk there..."_ And one look at her white eyes had said enough. Marinette was escorted into the mansion, and struggled up the stairs. Then, in a daze, she was at a door. The woman knocked.

 _"Adrien, a girl would like to speak with you."_

And, with no reply, the woman opened the door and let Marinette inside. It closed behind her. The room was huge, but all Marinette's black-and-white gaze could stare at was the bed... or what she assumed was the bed. In her blurry eyes that gave no details or indications it _was_ a bed, besides a sudden movement of blonde hair, she had stumbled to approach and fell beside what really was a mattress. Fragile arms had taken her own, and Marinette raised her head to see twin white eyes. She supposed they could have been white by her failed vision, but Marinette guessed they were not so. This was Adrien. And he looked just as incredibly weak as she was.

 _"You have no mark."_ he whispered, and Marinette gave her head a slow shake.

 _"You have no mark."_ she replied, and Adrien gave his head a slow shake as well.

There was a deep moment of silence between the two, before Adrien pulled the strange girl into a hug. Each whispered an apology for something they had no control over. Each cried at this moment. And each felt a little hope, that they weren't dying alone. That someone actually understood them. That someone had understood them all along.

 _"I'm Ad... Adrien..."_ the blonde had whispered, with a tremble Marinette could see. Though Mari already knew this, she didn't comment on that.

The girl with black hair had smiled, hugging him tighter. _"Mar... Marine... Marinette."_ she had replied.

And then they pulled away. And then they stared. And then they gasped.

 _"Adrien,"_ Marinette began, holding a hand to her heart. Her beating heart. _Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. "I—my heart... I f... feel it... f... feel it... b... beating...!"_

Adrien looked utterly shocked. And his hand raised to graze her right cheek, staring into her eyes. Gray eyes. _"Y... your eyes a... are darker...!"_ he struggled to say the last word strongly, but succeed. Each stared at each other for a moment longer. And then Adrien winced. He raised the palm of his hand into view. And then he let out a hoarse, quiet scream. _"Oh m... my God...!"_

Marinette raised her own palm like he had done. And there is was. _'You have no mark'_ in black writing, beautiful words that made Marinette begin to cry. She cried like she hadn't in weeks, because she felt like she had the strength to actually _sob._ It was there. Oh, it was actually there. Her mark—her actual _mark!_

 _"N-Nathalie!"_ Adrien tried to raise his voice as loud as it could be, and by the expression on his face, Marinette was certain that was the loudest it had been in months. _"Nathalie! N... Nathalie!"_ The woman had rushed in, completely ready to throw the girl out, convinced she had been tricked. But what she saw shocked her. Each child raised their right hand towards the woman, showing the black writing. The words for her to read, that they could barely but knew as well as any. Like a toddler showing their parent a drawing of their happy family.

 _"Oh... my God!"_ the woman had joined in their screaming as both Adrien and Marinette hugged again, mostly from exhaustion. But each felt their strength returning. Each were smiling, giggling even despite the _pain_ in their chests. Their hearts were _beating_ fast. They could barely _hear_ Nathalie dash out of the room in a frenzy. All they were concerned about were each other.

The mark was just late. It had come. It was only late.

It was just late.

 **MLMLMiraculousLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLMLadybugMLMLMLMLML**

 **I was thinking about ending the story differently... like, they died... or something, hehe. '^' but seeee, I did something nice!**

 **Anyone see a part two? Just me? Okay... T^T**

 **Sorry that everytime someone talks it's in _italics_ , that was suppose to signify the past. Then at the end, I was going to have it be the "present" time, without italics. But whoops, that idea basically died. Oh well. Hope you did enjoy the story though! I hope you have a wonderful day, reader(s)!**


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